Blackout

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Year:

1995

5:30

81 Views

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#2

 Struggling with Blackout? Become a better singer in 30 days with these videos!

[Intro]: Meth 
*All my people...!* 
[Redman] 
It's Funk Doc 
Where da weed at, bitch?! 
I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops 
See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit! 
Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for t.v. 
Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to Project-ballers 
You yell: "Turn the heat down!" 
My voice, diggi-di-round-sound, some herb round town 
And chances of ya'll leavin', round now 
Wait later, will make Funk page paper 
They rape up the Juveline Ave Graders 
Hit the High School at 187 Caesar 
When I bust ya'll need to back 4 achers 
Doc ya'll and that's my man Jap-A-Jaw 
The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off? 
I'm from the underground, my soundlib 
Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds! 

[Chorus]: Meth & Red 
GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH 'EM 
JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT! 
Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM 
Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM 
Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT 
MOVE OUT, EVEN KNOCK THE TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL FEEL IT! 
Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM 
Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM 

[Meth] 
Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin' 
A pursuit with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU FORCIN'? 
My hand that rock yo' cradle often 
I'm hot-scorchin', but stome cold like Steve Austin 
If you smell what Tical cookin', ain't try to see, send you bookin' 
So til ya gon' stop lookin', now what you did last summer? 
So I started hookin', you past shookin' 
Over open can I ass-whoopin'? 
Ain't no Tamara's in the Method's Little Shop Of Horrors 
Go ask your father who the father from the Hilbill harbour 
You know tha saga, marihuana plushin' gold sluggaz 
With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon and Reggie 
Don't even bother, the radio for back-up 
Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for his icin' 
Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!* 
Come meet me like Tyson and bite a nigga' ear 
Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew 
Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, Exatorer 
People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors 
Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a bone 
Straight from the Caticone 
The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue 
Prepare for desert storm! 

[Chorus] 
I scored 1.1 on my SAT 
And still pushin' whip with a right and left AC 
Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get caught 
I'm behind the brickwall with Aus and Nick Jaws 
Spit poison, got a gun permit draw 
Gundown at Sundown you keep score! 
This training-course and ya'll ain't fit 
On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit' 

[Meth] 
Yo', all you gonna be, want to be 
When will you learn? want to be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn 
I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve 
With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s 
The most slapped on ? and wink 
My shit stink with every element from A to Z 
So what you think? I'ma blackout on just one drink? 
You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe 
Go get a shrink... 

[Chorus]

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